The ANSVVER to the Buxome VIRGIN OR, The Farmer well-fitted, for slighting his first Love Honest Joan.
When Men can be so false as he,
And Waver with the Wind,
I do protest, I do not jest,
They're fitted in their kind.
To the Tune of,
The Countrey-Farmer, Or,
The Buxome Virgin.
The Country Farmer is now undone,
he knoweth not whether t
[...] go or run,
Now into a snare he is thus betray'd,
By marrying with
Gillian the buxome maid:
Is true as we are in this place,
Within the term of two months space,
She made him a sorrowful sower face,
That
Nedde was in a most woeful case.
And just in the middle of all the night,
She put him into a most fearful fright,
Her pittiful groans and sorrowful cryes,
Compell'd the Farmer at length to rise:
Then slipping on his shooes and hose,
carelesly putting on his cloaths,
Starts[?] in a hurry away he goes,
[...] her mother, then straight the arose.
O what is the matter my son said she,
You call in a hurry so hastily,
Nay marry quoth
Ned, I do not know
Your daughter hath fill'd my heart with woe,
With woful groans and dismal crys,
My sences all she did surprize,
So that at the length I was forc'd to rise,
But what is the matter I cannot devise.
When she had considered of what he said,
She posted away and no time delay'd,
The Old woman was in a woful touze,
And trotting away to her Daughters house,
But coming there, she knew full well,
As I to you the truth may tell,
That
Gillian had been too oft at the Mill,
And that was the cause of her falling ill.
Those Millers, quoth she, are such pomperd blades
Thus doing, they ruine poor harmless maids,
I think there is hardly one in ten,
That can be reputed right honest men:
There is
Robin, Ralph, and lusty
Will,
All brawny Blades of wanton skill
That never maid can go to the Mill,
But they will be kissing and courting still.
But why should we tattle and talk of this,
She is not the first that hath done amiss,
Go fetch the
Midwife and call the
Nurse,
Come come my dear Son it is well it's no worse:
The Farmer he Saddled bonny
Rone,
And Rid full speed five miles alone,
Then sighing and sobbing, and making moan,
He wishd he had never forsaken
Joan.
But after the trouble was o're and past,
A Chopping brave Boy she enjoy'd at last,
But
Nedde at this his stomach it riss,
To Father the Brat that was none of his:
Said they the Calf must with the Cow,
Both Law and reason doth allow,
Therefore my dear son be contented now,
In time he may come to drive the Plow.
This being consider'd, he soon was kind,
Though he at the first was disturb'd in mind
Then putting an end to the whole dispute,
He gave his sweet
Gillian a kind salute:
To Father it he will not fail,
O now appears a pleasant gale,
When they with the Farmer did thus prevail,
They drank up full brimmers of Nappy Ale.
The Women and he they were all agree'd,
To Christen the bantling now with speed,
Then straight for the business they prepare,
The Names of the Gossips I will declare,
The one was
Edwards Couzen
Phill,
The other jolly bouncing
Nell,
And
Roger the Miller of
Holeton-Dell,
So this being over, then all was well.
FINIS.
Printed for I. Deacon, at the Sign of the Angel in Guilt-spur street, without Newgate.